


For What It's Worth

by coconuthead_Marr



Category: Blur, Oasis (Band), Pulp (Band), Suede (Band)
Genre: Britpop, Drug Use, High School AU, Justine is very bisexual, Multi, Some smut maybe, damon is a lad, drug mention, mentions of Noel, this is my first time attempting something like this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2018-12-13 19:15:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11766543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coconuthead_Marr/pseuds/coconuthead_Marr
Summary: Britpop high school au, loosely based off Skins, much better than it looks from the tags.





	1. Damon

**Author's Note:**

> okay guys! this is my first attempt at something like this. i hope you like it, and here's a guide to the characters.
> 
> Damon Albarn: a bit of a lad. he dates Justine Frischmann but he's got a big secret that he's using her to cover up. he always brings spliff to the parties which earned him the nickname "Damon Potbarn". Ian Brown is his dealer 
> 
> Graham Coxon: Damon's best friend. everyone thinks he's a nerd but he's very cool. he knows he's gay, but he hasn't told anyone and people are always trying to set him up with girls
> 
> Liam Gallagher: school loner. nobody really knows him, but he falls in with Damon's crowd when he's forced to become the drug dealer, because Ian has skipped town
> 
> Justine Frischmann: bisexual as all hell. always shagging other girls but still loves Damon even though he doesn't take her shagging other girls seriously 
> 
> Jarvis Cocker: fucking weirdo but a lot of fun. when everyone is tired of spliff, he breaks out the pills
> 
> Alex James: lives with his mum. he drinks champagne straight out of the bottle and loves cooking. he hasn't seen his dad in years because he fucked off to an unknown location in France
> 
> Brett Anderson: openly gay, very smart and artsy. Damon hates him but he's at all the parties because he's best friends with Bernard Butler. he also takes piano lessons from Damon's mum. but some might say that Brett and Bernard are a little too friendly...
> 
> Bernard Butler: quiet and a bit awkward, but if you strike up a conversation with him, he's incredibly funny. he drags Brett Anderson to all the parties. he's also the sober one at parties. he may have one drink at least, but usually he drives everyone home when they're too intoxicated to even understand who they are
> 
> Ian Brown: drug dealer who loves The Beatles. but he skipped town last minute and the only person who knows why is Liam, who won't talk
> 
> Donna Matthews: Justine's best friend. has shagged her on multiple occasions but only when she's having male troubles. she fancies Jarvis. and she's a bit sketchy. some say she does heroin, others say she's just strange
> 
> Noel Gallagher: Liam's brother, who nobody knows. Liam is hiding something about him, but he won't say what

"Damon please, you know I'm afraid of people who deal drugs," Graham's voice had worry in it.

Damon considered hanging up the phone, "Gra, you do drugs, you're just as sketchy as people who deal them".

"Yes, but I do them in a controlled environment with people I trust!" pleaded Graham.

"That's a lie and you know it," Damon sighed, "But if you're gonna be such a fuckin' wanker about it, I'll get it".  
Graham didn't have time to speak before Damon hung up the phone. Yes, Graham was his best friend, and he did feel a bit sorry about calling him a wanker, but if he was too afraid to go buy some spliff for a party, then he deserved to be called a wanker. Damon always picked it up, and he was tired of the rather daft nickname that everyone had started giving him: Damon Potbarn.  
He strolled down his street, stopping at his house. He unlocked the door, immediately being hit with the sound of the grand piano in the parlor. His mother was giving a piano lesson.

"Damon," Called his mother, as Moonlight Sonata came to a grinding halt, "Is that you?"

"Yes mum!" Damon stepped into the parlor, seeing that today's piano student was Brett Anderson. Damon scowled, "Oh, it's you".  
The corners of Brett's mouth twinged, suggesting a half-assed smile. Damon didn't know why he hated Brett so much. He was a tall, skinny lad with floppy brown hair that hid his foxlike features. He was smart, and probably lived inside a dictionary, based on the incredibly mature way in which he spoke. In fact, Damon would be seeing him tonight. He was always at the parties, because he was best friends with Bernard Butler. Damon could respect that. Bernard was a nice guy, not too pretentious but slightly awkward. If you started up a conversation with him though, he could be quite funny. Damon hated his long hair, but he could see past it. 

"Are you staying for dinner tonight, dear?" Damon's mum wondered.

"Actually, I'm just about to leave again," Said Damon, "Thought I'd stop in and say hello though".

"Oh, alright. Well have fun," she stood to give her son a kiss on the cheek, "And be sensible".

"I will be, mum," Damon looked at Brett, who rolled his eyes. Of course, neither of them were going to be sensible tonight. But Brett was bearing witness to a lie, and of course he thought it was funny, knowing the truth.  
Damon left the house and took the long, back way to his drug dealer's flat. He lived about an hour away by foot, in a small flat above a Chinese restaurant. His name was Ian Brown, and he was a thirty-something Mancunian who sold a fair amount of drugs, including spliff. His flat was fairly nice, but you couldn't sit on the couch. Oddly enough, the cushions were jam packed with unfathomable amounts of cocaine, and sitting down could cause a breach.  
Damon finally made it to Ian's flat, quietly made his way up the stairs, and did the secret knock on the door. It was cliché for dealers to have a secret knock, but Ian did. The door opened up slightly, showing a blue eye, and it was not Ian's.

"And who the fuck are you?" asked whoever was behind the door. The accent was mancunian, but it was certainly not Ian's voice. He was soft spoken, and the man behind the door was loud, and his words were slurred by his outrageously northern accent.

"I'm Damon. Is Ian here?" Damon asked.

The eye sized him up, "Ian skipped town. I'm his replacement".

"He what?" Damon furrowed his brow, "That's not like him. I've known him for two years, and he's been in this business for far longer".

"You want your goods or not, mate?" asked the man.  
Damon nodded, and the door opened all the way. As he stepped in, he realised that the flat was exactly as Ian had left it. The cocaine couch was still there, and the piece of paper taped to it which read "do not sit!" was still there. All his things were on the shelves and the coffee table. All his records were there.

"Skipped town, did he?" Damon questioned. 

"Yeah, mate," the man said, "What did I tell ya?"  
It was then that Damon finally got a good look at him. He was wearing a parka, though it was summer, baggy jeans, and adidas. His eyebrows were thick, but in a charming way, and his John Lennon style haircut framed his slight underbite nicely. 

"Anyway, I'm Liam," He put his hand out to shake, "What are you here for?"

"Just spliff," Damon replied.

"What for?" Asked Liam skeptically.

"Uh... a party?" Damon thought this was quite obvious, but Liam seemed strange. 

"A party," Liam repeated, "Will there be birds there?"

Damon hesitated, "Well yes, a few..."

"Great," Liam clapped his hands together, "I'll give you the spliff for free if I can come".

"What?" Damon grew slightly nervous at this, "Listen, I've got the money, just take it".

"Lemme make this more simple," Liam grabbed a large bag of what was probably the spliff, "I won't give it to you unless I can come".

"Where the fuck is Ian?" Damon asked, raising his voice.

"I told you, he skipped town," said Liam slowly, as if the message wasn't getting across. 

Damon sighed, "Oh fine. But that's probably too much spliff".

"Save some for later," Liam shoved the bag into Damon's arms, and made his way to the door. They walked outside, and the sun was almost fully set. 

"So where's the party?" Liam asked after about ten minutes of silence.

"My friend Alex's house," Damon answered, "His mum is away for the weekend".

"Where's his dad then?" Liam countered.

Damon paused for a moment, "He hasn't seen his dad for years. He fucked off to France I guess".  
Liam didn't say anything. He just stared at the ground, in some sort of trance. Damon thought he was strange, but he liked him. They finally arrived at Alex's house, where loud music was booming, and every room was jam packed with people. 

"Just follow me!" Damon shouted over the hum of loud conversations and music.  
They weaved through the crowds, stopping at a couch where two girls were making out. Damon pointed at them and laughed. 

"Justine!" Damon yelled, catching the attention of one girl. Justine stood up, gave Damon a smile, and then started open-mouth kissing him.

"Have you got the spliff?" she asked after about three solid minutes of loud, sloppy kissing.

"Yes," Damon held it up, "I picked it up because GRAHAM WAS TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO DO IT!"  
A few feet away, Graham's face contorted. He was talking to Jarvis, who was a great deal taller (and a great deal stranger) than him.

"Who the hell is this guy?" Justine asked, looking at Liam. 

"That's just Liam," Damon replied, "He sold me the spliff! Ian skipped town!"

Justine looked like she was about to question him, but instead she turned to Liam, "Hey mate, it's about a million degrees in here. Why the fuck are you wearing a parka?"

Liam rolled his eyes, "Because I've got a massive erection".

Justine paused for a moment before laughing very loudly, "I like him!"

"Not as much as me, I hope," Damon raised his eyebrows quizzically.

"Not as much as you," Justine smiled, "And not as much as Donna".

"I don't mean to interrupt what's clearly leading up to sex," Liam cleared his throat, "But does anyone here have a little summat more than spliff?"

"Jarvis is your man," Damon nodded toward Jarvis. He was tall, lanky and wore a pinstripe blazer with matching trousers. He had glasses with a slight yellow tint, but they were covered by his messy brown hair. He was talking to Graham. 

"Him?" Liam paused a moment, "He doesn't look the type to have drugs".

Damon shook his head, "Believe me, mate, a small amount of anything he's got will leave you wondering who the fuck you are for at least two days".  
Liam looked as if he thought Damon was lying. He looked like he had a million things he wanted to say. Instead of saying them, he turned around and walked towards Jarvis.


	2. Liam

Liam followed Jarvis up the creaky stairs. It was far more crowded downstairs, and the only people up here could be heard from outside the bedrooms. Jarvis stopped and knocked on a door. When no reply came, he opened it up. It looked like the master bedroom, and everyone's coats were piled on top of the bed. Jarvis grabbed one coat, presumably his own, and shoved the rest off so the two could sit down.

"So what type of thing are you looking for?" Jarvis asked, this being the first words of his that Liam heard.

"Not sure," Liam pondered, "You got cocaine?"

"If it's cocaine you want, I've got just the thing," Jarvis replied, reaching into one of many coat pockets. He pulled out a small plastic bag of some sort of powdery substance, and grabbed a book from the nightstand. He poured the substance out onto the book and sorted it into several lines. 

"Hold on mate, I ain't stupid," Liam said, looking at whatever was divided into lines on the book, "That shit resembles cocaine, but not enough".

"Oh you're certainly right," Jarvis replied, "This isn't cocaine, this is crystal meth. It's stronger and better than cocaine. My mistake. If it's coke you want, I'll just sweep this up and get it for you".

"No, no mate," Liam replied quickly, "I think this'll do".  
Jarvis smiled and nodded as Liam reached into his pocket and pulled out a tenner. He rolled it up, and did a line. Then he did another, and another, and another still. He did about ten of the original eleven. His shaky hands gave Jarvis then tenner. He took the last line and pocketed the tenner. 

"Good luck mate," Jarvis chimed.   
Before Liam knew what was happening, he was standing outside the room he had been in, only milliseconds ago. Time was moving fast now. He held out his hands, and they were shaking uncontrollably. He took a shaky breath, and did what was intended to be quickly running down the stairs, but instead, he tripped and fell to the bottom. People laughed at him, but he didn't notice.   
He couldn't explain why, but he needed to find Damon. He darted through the house, pushing people aside. Nobody was Damon though. Liam realised that maybe he was upstairs, so he ran back up the stairs, pacing the hall until he heard something from behind one of the doors. It was Damon's name being squealed loudly. Without a second thought, he opened the door to find a moving lump of blanket on the bed.

"Fuck, Damon," a female voice mumbled, "Did you hear the door open?"

Damon's head poked out of the covers, "Jesus, Liam! What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"I d-don't..." He was sweating, though he was cold, and his entire body was shaking. He glanced at a mirror he happened to be standing by, and saw that he was ghostly pale. He tried to speak, but the only thing that came out was exasperated sighs. 

"Are you alright mate?" Damon's voice echoed throughout Liam's brain.   
Liam tried to speak again, but he couldn't. He dropped to his knees and started throwing up nonstop onto the carpet. 

"Fucking hell," Damon got out of bed and pulled on his jeans, "What the fuck did Jarv give you anyway?"   
He knelt next to Liam for a moment before deciding to try to transport him to the bathroom.

"Liam mate," Damon took Liam's hand, "Can you stand?"  
Liam wretched once more before nodding his head. He was led into the bathroom, which was small, despite the size of the house. He sat down by the bathtub, shaking.

"Oh Liam," Damon knelt down next to him, "You've got uh... on your parka".  
Liam looked down to find that he had a small amount of bile down the front of his parka. He sighed. It hadn't been cheap... and his brother Noel had bought it for him. He could feel tears gathering in his eyes and the only thing that kept them in was the reminder that he couldn't show any weakness. A lesson from Noel. 

"Listen," Damon cleared his throat, "Why don't I try to clean it off while you take a shower. Is that alright?"  
Liam nodded, and slowly shed his jacket to reveal a plain white tee shirt. It was sticking to him from all the sweat. As his shaking hands fumbled around his shoelaces, Damon stood and turned the water on. He must've seen Liam struggling with his shoelaces, because he bent down and untied them for him. 

"Alright Liam," Damon instructed, "You get in the shower while I clean your jacket... and the carpet".  
As soon as Damon left, he took all his clothing off and climbed into the shower. The lukewarm water ran down his skin, and he decided to sit down because he felt dizzy. He cursed himself for doing ten lines. Jarvis had warned him that it was stronger than cocaine, and he still hadn't listened. He probably wouldn't be able to sleep for days. A knock on the door startled Liam. 

"Liam," Damon's muffled voice spoke, "I cleaned your coat. Are you done in there?"

Liam drew up all the strength inside him to say, "Not yet".

"When you get out, I can take you home, alright?" Damon called. Liam didn't respond. He didn't want to go home. Home wasn't really home anymore. But it was probably the best idea.  
Liam turned off the water, dried himself off with a towel, and slipped on his clothes. The tee shirt was still damp from when he was sweating profusely, but he didn't mind. Carefully, he opened the bathroom door to find Damon standing directly next to it.

"You alright?" Asked Damon, handing Liam his clean parka. He nodded, though he still felt like shite.   
Damon led Liam to a car outside, and started driving. They were silent for a few minutes, the hum of the car being the only noise to fill the void.

"You'll have to give me directions," Damon said, breaking the silence. Liam nodded. The only things he said were "left" and "right" for a whole fifteen minutes. Finally, they drove down Liam's street. 

"This is it," He said, pointing to a very nice house which wasn't his.

"Really? What a lovely house," Damon smiled. Liam nodded and stepped out of the car. He wandered up to the front step and waved. He then waited until Damon had driven off to cross the street to his flat. It wasn't nearly as nice as the house he'd said was his, and that's why he lied. He ascended the staircase and quietly slipped in through the door.

"Where were you Liam?" A voice asked.

"Nowhere, dad," Liam replied softly.

"Nowhere?" His dad laughed, "Noel would never come back this late, you know".

Liam momentarily lost his breath, "I'm not Noel, in case you didn't realise".

"Oh I know," His dad paused, "Sometimes I wish it was you, instead of him".  
Liam was caught off guard. Of all the insensitive things his father had said, this one took the cake. He spit on the floor, stormed into his bedroom, and slammed the door. He took off his shoes and parka and climbed into bed. But he didn't sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for continuing on to chapter 2! i know there's a lot of unexplained stuff about Noel, but just keep it all in your memory, as it will be explained later. leave comments/kudos if you enjoyed :)


	3. Graham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i know this chapter has lots of dialogue but i think you guys will still like it, so here it is x

Graham, Damon, and Alex were the only people left at 3:00 AM, aside from Justine who was outside smoking a cigarette. They slowly tidied up the house as best they could. Graham was distracted though. He couldn't help but watch every little thing Damon did. He loved every mannerism, every facial expression, and every word. He was in love with his best friend, and he had been for a long time. And tonight was the night he would tell him. 

"Hey Dame?" Graham's voice shook, "Can I tell you something?"

"What?" Damon scoffed, "Is it that you're a fucking pussy? Because I already knew".

"Damon...," Graham stuttered, "What are you talking about?"

"Too much of a pussy to go pick up some spliff," Laughed Damon.

"Wha- You're still on about that?" Graham felt like he could cry.

"Take a joke, Gra," Damon lightly punched Graham in the arm. 

Graham shoved him hard, "Fuck off Damon, you fucking prick. I'm trying to tell you something and you're just being a tosser".

"Y'know what?" Damon backed up, "If you can't take a fucking joke, I'm leaving".  
Just then, Justine opened up the door and started to walk in. Damon grabbed their coats, and turned her around.

"We're leaving," He grumbled before slamming the door behind them.   
Graham laid down on the floor, holding back tears. He just wanted to tell that utter wanker how he felt, and now was gone. Maybe it was better this way. Damon would probably be uncomfortable with Graham fancying him. Or he'd be a dick about it. Nonetheless, he still felt upset. He only wished he had the balls to tell Damon. Graham felt tears escaping his eyes, and he didn't notice Alex standing in the doorway.

"Are you okay Gra?" Alex asked sweetly.

"Does it look like it, Alex?" Graham sighed.   
Alex shrugged, and laid down on the floor next to him. They both stared at the ceiling in silence for a while.

"What's troubling you?" Alex broke the silence.

Graham sighed, "I'm in love with Damon".

Alex sat up and looked down at him, "You are?"

"Yes," Graham replied, "I have been for a while now".

"Well Gra, I'm a little offended you don't fancy me instead," Alex giggled. 

"Please," Graham rolled his eyes, "You're so straight it's almost sickening".

"I won't knock it 'til I've tried it!" Alex joked, earning a moment of laugher from Graham, "Get up Gra, I'll make you some tea".  
The pair stood up and walked into the kitchen. Alex's face painted a momentary expression of delight when he saw his opened and half-finished bottle of champagne on the counter. He picked it up and took a swig, grinning ear to ear. Graham didn't know why Alex loved champagne so much, but as long as he had it, he was happy. Alex opened a cupboard and pulled a box of PG Tips out. He turned on the boiling water, and waited. There was an awkward silence during which Alex would take the occasional sip of champagne. 

"Can I have some champagne Alex?" Graham teased. 

"Fuck off Gra," Alex replied quickly, before adding, "Tea is more of a comfort thing anyway".

"But lots of people drown their sadness in champagne," Graham paused, "Like you".

"It's not sadness I'm drowning mate," Alex defended.  
Graham wanted to ask what that meant, but the water started boiling, and Alex had turned around to fix the tea. He handed it to Graham and ushered him into the living room. They sat down on the uncomfortable couch and sipped their drinks. It wasn't long before Graham noticed Alex staring at him. His brown eyes scanned Graham up and down silently. 

"Alex," Graham questioned, "Is something wrong?"   
He didn't speak, and Graham realised too late, what was happening. Alex leaned forward and kissed him. His lips tasted exactly like champagne, with a slight hint of cigarettes. Graham didn't understand why this was happening, but he went along with it.

"Why did you do that?" Asked Graham when Alex pulled away.

"I just wanted to try it," Alex shrugged.

"Well, I'm not a fucking hobby," Graham spat.

"Nor am I," Alex softly replied.  
Graham was expressionless. He wasn't sure why Alex kissed him. Was it because he wanted to or simply because he could? He realised he wanted to kiss Alex again. He tried to justify it, but he couldn't. Graham surged forward and pressed his lips to Alex's. Alex was a good kisser, which didn't surprise Graham. He was the object of every girl's fancy, and he knew it.   
Alex's warm hand rested on Graham's cheek, pulling him in closer. He let his fingers trace Graham's neck, giving him goosebumps. Alex's hand made its way to his thigh, and kept moving until Graham pulled away and stumbled away from the couch. 

"What's wrong?" Alex asked, his face contorted into pure confusion.

"I can't do that Alex," Graham's voice cracked, "I just-"

"Gra, don't worry. It's fine," Interrupted Alex, "I'm sorry".  
Graham began to walk forward, but he tripped on uneven carpet and fell to the floor. He was crying from embarrassment. 

"Jesus Gra," Alex helped him up, "I don't think you'll make it home. You can stay here, alright?"  
Graham nodded his head, and Alex led him upstairs. He opened the door to one of the guest rooms, but Graham stopped him.

"I want to stay in your room," Graham mumbled, "With you. In case you decide to make a midnight tea run".

Alex laughed, "Okay Gra".  
They went to Alex's room and slipped off their shoes. Graham felt drowsy as soon as he got beneath the covers. He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.


	4. Jarvis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this chapter is sort of boring and short but i felt like i needed to write it x

Jarvis woke from his short slumber at 8:00 AM. He shuffled for his glasses on the nightstand, knocking some unnamed pills onto the floor. He looked through the pile of his clothes for what he was going to wear, finding a tattered green sweater, an undershirt, some trousers, and his school tie. Jarvis got dressed, gathered his books, and put on his jacket, stopping when he noticed the aforementioned pills which had been knocked to the floor. He bent down to examine them, concluding that they were ecstasy, and slipped them into one of many coat pockets. 

"Mum, I'm off to school," Shouted Jarvis. There came no reply, so he walked out the door. The frigid air met with his skin, making his cheeks rosy. It was autumn, and leaves crunched beneath every footstep. 

"Jarvis!" Called a female voice, "Hey!"  
The voice belonged to Donna, a petite girl with short, choppy, blonde hair. Jarvis didn't know much about her, except she was best friends with Justine, and she made small talk with Jarvis occasionally. She was quite nice, but slightly strange. Of course, Jarvis didn't notice, because he was strange too.

"Oh, hello Donna," Jarvis stopped so she could catch up to him. 

"How are you this morning?" Asked Donna, immediately.

"Oh, I'm okay," Jarvis replied, "How are you?"

"I'm great," Donna paused, "Were you at the party last night?"

"I was," Jarvis shrugged, "But all I got from anyone was a tenner".

"Did you meet that Liam guy?" Donna wondered, "I saw him fall down the stairs. He looked high".

Jarvis suddenly remembered giving Liam all that crystal meth, "Shit, I gave him too much.... I hope he's alright".

"What'd you give him?" Donna inquired before being interrupted by the sound of quick footsteps behind them.

"You fucking idiot!" yelled a boy their age, grabbing Jarvis' arms, "Why the fuck would you give him that much? Ten lines? Are you fucking serious?"

Jarvis blinked, unsurprised by the sudden abuse, "Hello Damon".

"You know who had to clean up after that twat, Jarv?" Damon shook him hard, which must've looked funny to anyone else because Damon was so much shorter than him, "Me! I had to clean up his sick, I had to drive him home, I even had to untie his bloody shoes!"

"I didn't realise he would react like that, Dame," Jarvis calmly defended.

"Ten lines of what?" Donna interrupted.

"Crystal. Fucking. Meth," Damon spat.

"God Jarv, that's sick!" Donna frowned, "He could've died!"

"I'm sorry," Jarvis quietly apologized, "I wasn't thinking".

"No you weren't," Damon let go of him, "If this keeps happening, I'm telling the cops, and getting you into jail. It wouldn't be too difficult".  
Damon walked away quickly, and after a moment, Jarvis and Donna started walking again. The walk was filled with uncomfortable silence. When they finally reached the school, they went their separate ways. Jarvis walked into his first class, chemistry, sitting beside Alex. He enjoyed sitting with Alex because he didn't take anything seriously. He was always mixing things and making them explode. Sometimes he'd reach into his pocket and pull out a flask, just to see how each substance would react to alcohol. One time he'd been leaning over a test tube, adding the smallest drop of champagne, when it burst into flames suddenly. Alex was quite calm about it, which was surprising because his long floppy hair had caught on fire and singed the edges. He came in the next day with a haircut which actually exposed most of his face, and he complained about it until it eventually covered his face up again. 

"Oi Jarv," Alex grinned, tapping his thin fingers on the desk, "How are you today? Did you make much at my party last night?"

"No," Jarvis replied flatly, "Just ten quid".

"How pitiful!" Alex shook his head, "Are you alright Jarv? You don't seem your normal self today. If you'd call yourself normal, of course".  
Jarvis was not alright. He couldn't stop turning last night over in his head. He could have killed someone. He shouldn't have given him so much. What was his name again? Jarvis was drawing a blank on it... Linus or Lane or something like that. He almost killed someone and he didn't even know his name. Maybe he should stop selling hard drugs. He considered it for a moment, before remembering that drugs paid his way through school. He couldn't just give up on his only source of income, no matter how badly it hurt people.

"I'm fine Alex," Jarvis sighed, "Just fine".  
Just then, class started and Alex didn't have enough time to fuss over whether or not he really was okay. The rest of the day went by quickly for Jarvis. He had one thought in his head, and it was about last night. He didn't even notice the day had ended. He just sat in his desk as everyone left. 

"Mr. Cocker?" A male voice asked, "Are you planning on leaving any time soon?"  
It was Jarvis' literature teacher, Mr. Morrissey. He was very thin and awkward, but his language was incredibly advanced. Not to mention that he always knew how to put a student to shame if they were doing something stupid. 

"Yes," Jarvis snapped out of his guilty haze, "Sorry. I was just thinking".

"Not many people your age tend to do that," Mr. Morrissey paused, "Unless something has gone wrong".

"Well yes," Jarvis sighed, "But it's very complicated and possibly a bit illegal".

"That's life for you," Mr. Morrissey took a seat next to Jarvis, "What's the trouble, lad? I've got more secrets than you'll ever know. One more can't hurt".

"Well," Jarvis started, "With minimal detail, someone could've died last night, and it would've been my fault".

The teacher thought for a moment, "You feel guilty, right?" Jarvis nodded.   
"Good, because if you didn't feel guilty, I'd have been without words".

"But what am I meant to do?" Jarvis pleaded, "I can't stop thinking about it".

"You're only human," Mr. Morrissey tapped his fingers on the desk, "The past is the past. Don't let it become the future, alright? Now please, get out of my classroom".  
Jarvis started up and left Mr. Morrissey's classroom. He couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said. Was it advice or just crap? He supposed he'd soon find out.


	5. Alex

"Come home with me, Gra," Alex nagged.

"Alex, no!" Graham snapped, "Fuck off!"

"Why not?" Alex pouted his lips.

"Because...," Graham hopelessly looked for an excuse, "I don't want to".

"Is it because of what happened last night?" Alex asked.

"Fucking hell, Alex," Graham slammed his locker door, "I like you, okay? A lot".

"Well I like you too, Gra," Alex smiled, "That's why I kiss-"

"Shut up, don't say it aloud," Graham interrupted.

"If you come home with me," Alex thought for a moment, "I'll give you champagne".

Graham took a deep breath, and sighed, "Fine".  
Alex grinned widely. He liked Graham quite a lot. Sure, he was drunk and slightly high last night, but he wasn't any of those things now, and he still wanted to kiss him. The two walked back to Alex's house silently. His mum wasn't home from work yet, and his dad had of course fucked off to France. They went upstairs to Alex's room, setting down their bags.

"Want me to put on a record?" Alex poked Graham, who was staring intently at the floor.

"Yes, go ahead," Graham nodded, "Let me guess... New Order?"

"You know me so well!" Alex said, flipping through his records and pulling out 'Power, Corruption, & Lies'. Alex tapped his feet as the lovely bassline from 'Age Of Consent' kicked in.

"Quit prancing, and get me that champagne," Graham smiled warmly.

"Be back in a second darling," Alex danced to the door, and down the stairs until he couldn't hear the music anymore.   
Upon entering the kitchen, he realised that there were no glasses suitable for champagne, and they would have to drink straight out of the bottle. Alex preferred it this way, but he wasn't sure if Graham would want to drink like that. He opened the bottle, and made his way back up the stairs. When he entered his room, Graham had taken his shoes off, and was sitting cross-legged on Alex's bed. 

"We'll have to drink it right out of the bottle," Alex said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I don't care," Graham laughed, "I came for the champagne, not the champagne glasses".

"I like your attitude," Alex carefully sat down on the bed, directly next to Graham.  
Alex passed him the bottle, and he took a surprisingly large sip. A sip Alex would only dare to take.

"Woah there," Alex grabbed the bottle, "I didn't think you were that much of a drinker. You're drinking like me, and that's never a good sign".

"We've got lots more in common than you think," Graham said, numbly.

"Oh yeah?" Alex sipped the champagne, "Like what?"

"Like...," Graham stumbled over his words in a typically Graham-like way for a moment before stopping. His brown eyes were scanning Alex up and down. He felt like his soul was on exhibit.

"Go ahead, Gra," Alex smiled slightly, "I know".  
Graham slowly inched forward. He seemed slightly hesitant. Alex knew it would never happen at this rate, so he surged forward, pressing his lips to Graham's. He tasted champagne, and he was sure that Graham could taste it too. It was warm, and wonderful. It was a champagne supernova. Graham's hand had been resting between them on the bed, and Alex took it with his own. After a few minutes, they pulled away.

"I don't regret it this time," Graham said before Alex even had the chance to take another sip from the bottle.

"I don't either," Alex passed the bottle to Graham, who drank for a long moment, "Want to do it again?"   
Graham nodded, and they proceeded to do it again. They did it for much longer this time. It was much the same as it had been a few minutes ago, except better somehow. Alex pulled away to take the finishing sip of champagne.

"We seem to have run out of champagne," Alex smirked, "Shall I get more?" 

"Yes, please," Graham paused, "Don't be long".

"I'll be back so soon you won't even know I was gone," Alex exited his room and walked down the stairs. Graham and champagne in one day? He didn't think this day could possibly get any better.  
He approached the living room, before entering the kitchen. His mother was sitting on the couch, facing an eerily familiar man who was in a chair across from the couch. Alex stopped dead in his tracks, trying to understand who the man was. When he finally realised, his jaw dropped, as well as the empty champagne bottle, which broke into thousands of pieces on the hardwood floor. 

"Alex!" Said the man, in surprise.

"Dad?" Alex's hands were shaking, and he felt light-headed, "What are you doing in this house?"

"Alex, dear," His mother stood, "Don't be so upset".

"What the-?" Alex struggled for words, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Don't use that language in your mother's home, you idiot!" Spat Alex's dad.  
Alex didn't have a response. He dropped to his hands and knees, cutting them with broken glass, and threw up. He sat up and looked at his hands. They were bleeding badly, as were his knees. Tears dropped into his open palms, mixing with the blood.

"Oh my god, Alex!" His mother ran to him, careful not to step on sick or glass. Alex was hunched over, tears falling into glass and bile. Just then, he heard Graham bounding down the stairs.

"Alex," Graham called, "Where is the..," He stopped dead in his tracks for a quick second, before running to Alex and hugging the broken boy, "What happened to you?"

Alex was now sobbing, but he caught his breath for long enough to say, "Dad".

"Oh shit," Graham sighed, "Lets get you upstairs".

"Who are you?" Alex's dad exclaimed, "And don't use that language in this house!"  
Graham ignored this statement, pulling Alex up, and helping him to the stairs. His mother had already started to clean up the broken glass and puke. Alex was brought into his bedroom, but he hardly noticed. He couldn't stop thinking of his father. The last time he'd seen him, had been when he was ten years old, and he'd yelled something about ungrateful families and France. He was gone the next day. Alex had probably been daydreaming for longer than he thought, because when he snapped back, Graham had already been to the bathroom and back, and was pressing a damp towel to his hands and knees.

"Are you going to be alright, Alex?" Graham asked, quietly, "Do you need me to stay again?"

"Yes please," This was probably the smallest Alex had ever sounded, "I haven't seen him in six years".

"I know, love," Graham sat beside Alex, "He has no right to come back after six years and act like everything's fine".

"You're too good for anyone Gra," Alex rested his head on Graham's shoulder, "You just understand everything so well".

"I'm not exactly sure how true that is, but thank you," Graham laughed.

"Kiss me again," Alex grinned, "I need it".  
Graham smiled, and kissed him. Alex didn't think he'd felt this good when he kissed other people. Graham gave him a feeling, which he could only describe as right. It felt right. They kissed each other for a few minutes, until the door opened.

"Oh fucking hell, Alex," Alex's dad sighed, "You're not gay now are you?"

"What if I am?" Alex snapped, "Why do you care, suddenly?"

"I can't believe I came all this way to see you, just to find out that you're a fucking disappointment," His dad shook his head.

"Maybe I'd be less of a disappointment if you'd stuck around," Alex was now on his feet, "You don't get to fuck off for six years and pretend you were never gone!"  
Alex's dad didn't say anything. He just slapped him very hard, and left, slamming the door. Alex stood for a moment, in complete shock. He felt tears collecting in his eyes, and he was frozen.  
Graham stood, taking Alex into his arms. He was shaking, and he felt like he was going to throw up again. He couldn't believe his father. He was exactly as he was when he'd left. Alex expected that he'd have changed into less of an uptight shitebag. It was unbelievable. Disturbing, even.

"What a fucking twat," Graham quietly said.

"Yeah," Alex agreed, "I'm sorry you had to deal with that".

"No worries," Graham hugged Alex tightly, "Perhaps we should sleep. Today has been quite busy, hasn't it?"  
Alex nodded, kissing Graham on the cheek. They stared at each other for a moment until they started kissing again, in a sloppy way. It still felt right for Alex. They sat down on the bed, not breaking contact. When Graham reached for the buttons on Alex's shirt, he knew what was next. And he wasn't going to stop it. After all, it only felt right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay this chapter was long and had a fair amount of dialogue, but i have no doubt in my mind that you guys liked it because of the drama. please leave comments/kudos if you enjoy :))


	6. Noel

Noel wandered through the store, checking each price tag. Everything was outrageously expensive, and all he had was £350. He stopped at a dark green parka. It was £200 and Liam would love it. It was his birthday today, and Noel wanted to get him something nice. He brought it to the counter and paid. The cashier gave him a strange look. She looked like she didn't want expect a rough looking guy to be buying such an expensive coat. Noel flipped her off as he left.

"Liam, get the fuck out here!" Called Noel when he finally arrived at home.

"Fuck off, you can't tell me what to do," Liam stormed out of his bedroom, "It's me fuckin' birthday".

"I know that, you pillock," Noel laughed, "I got you summat".

"What is it?" Liam asked. Noel pointed to a paper bag which was sitting on a chair opposite the couch. Liam grabbed it and pulled the parka out. His eyes widened as he looked at the thing with childlike fascination. He looked at the jacket, then at Noel, then at the jacket again, over and over.

"Try it on, then!" Noel urged.  
Liam stood, carefully unzipping the parka, and putting it on. It fit him perfectly. It was as if it were made for him. He walked into his room to look in the mirror. Noel could hear him silently say, "Fuck... fucking hell".

"How much did this cost?" Liam asked, walking back into the living room.

Noel paused, "Don't worry about it. It's your birthday".  
The front door opened up and in came their father. He looked at Liam and chuckled, shaking his head.

"How much did this little number cost?" Asked their dad, sitting down.

"It's no concern," Noel defended, "I've already bought it, don't worry".

"Tell me what the price was, son," Dad urged.

Noel sighed, "£200".

"What?" Their dad's eyes widened, "That's too fucking much for some shitty little coat. Return it now!"

"Fuck off, dad," Noel stood, "It's Liam's birthday and I had some extra money. Someone has to fucking pay attention to the kid, and that someone is obviously me!"

"He's just a fucking idiot," Grumbled their dad, "You can't see it now, but you will. Always hanging with that Ian Brown bloke. I bet he's a druggie".  
Noel had heard all he needed to. He tugged Liam by the sleeve, careful not to harm the parka, and pulled him out the door. 

"Where are we fucking going?" Liam angrily wondered.

"Far away from that fucking twat," Answered Noel, "Get in the car".  
The brothers got in the car, Noel slamming the door hard. He started driving. He was going fast, barely thinking. Nothing mattered. Nothing, until he looked over at Liam. He saw his tough little brother sinking into the fake leather seat, clutching it so hard, his knuckles were white. That's when Noel slowed the car down and paid more attention. Liam was always his impulse control. He didn't want to kill his brother. 

"Can I put summat on the radio?" Liam asked, breaking the silence.

"Sure thing," Noel nodded, "Put something good on, it's your birthday".  
Liam reached into a pocket in his jeans and pulled out a cassette tape. It was 'Let It Be' by The Beatles. He carefully put it into the tape deck, and the car was filled with the song 'Two Of Us'. They drove around their large town for a while, passing by the same things occasionally.

"Lets drive to Glasgow," Noel suggested.

"What?" Liam laughed, "You're fuckin' bonkers, mate, that's hours away. All we've got are the clothes on our backs, and your shite car!"

Noel pulled over, "If you don't want to go to Glasgow and finally be free of that fucking cunt, then you can get out of my car".

"Of course I want to be free of dad," Liam turned down the volume on the radio, "But I don't want to go to fucking Glasgow. Or anywhere for that matter. I like it here, I'm in my element".

"Fine!" Noel raised his voice, "Then you can get out of me fucking car, you're not stopping me. Go hang out with you weird middle aged drug dealer pal! Go!"  
Liam's eyes were wide. His jaw had dropped too, and he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn't. Noel realised that he looked hurt, but it was far too late to say anything. Liam was out of the car, slamming the door behind him. Noel watched him storm off in the rear view mirror. There was silence, except for 'Let It Be' on low volume. He wanted to tell Liam he'd forgotten his tape. It was his favourite. Noel didn't tell him. He started driving again. He was going to Glasgow.  
First, he stopped at the local pub, and ordered three pints. As he drank, someone sat next to him at the bar, but he didn't look at them. He kept his eyes glued to the reflection in his paneled glass.

"Shouldn't you be with Liam?" Asked the man sitting there, "Isn't it his birthday today?"  
Noel looked over to find Ian, who he'd previously described as Liam's 'weird middle aged drug dealer pal'. He had shaggy hair, which obviously hadn't been cut in months, and he was wearing baggy jeans, a striped shirt, and a windbreaker. He had two less pints than Noel.

"He went home," Noel took a sip of his lager, "I'm driving to Glasgow".

"Scotland?" Ian thought for a moment, "That's a hell of a drive, mate".

"That's why I'm going," Scoffed Noel.

"Do want something to get you through it?" Asked Ian.

"What do you think these three fucking pints of lager are for, mate?" Noel rolled his eyes. His dad had been right about Ian, and that scared him.

"Alright then," Ian paused, "I'll tell Liam you said hello".

"You do that," Noel said, taking another drink of lager. Over the next half hour, he finished all three pints and stumbled back into his car.  
He drove carefully for an hour. It was getting dark. He started thinking about Liam, and what a stupid prick he'd been. All Noel wanted was to help him. To help them both. Liam suffered more from their dad's anger. Noel had a job, and his old man respected that. But Liam? Well, he just listened to The Beatles and took drugs. As far as their dad was concerned, he was a deadbeat.  
Realising that Liam's tape was still in the tape deck, Noel smiled. He restarted it, and turned it up to full volume. He drove recklessly down the roads. The windows were open, he was going at around 90 mph, and the music was so loud he could barely think. He laughed, feeling freedom he'd only glimpsed at before. Noel wondered what he'd do when he got to Glasgow. He'd probably try to meet a girl and spend the night at her place, and then maybe look for a job. He could do whatever he wanted, without the controlling grasp of his father. He was alone. He hadn't taken Liam, who was still very much within the controlling grasp of his father. Noel didn't want Liam to have to deal with that. Especially alone. He deserved someone to share the burden with.  
Noel slowed down and turned the car around, going back in the direction of home. He pressed harder on the gas, feeling the need to get home as soon as possible. He was coasting down the motorway at dangerous speeds, but he didn't notice. The only thing he had on his mind was home. It was still the last thing on his mind when the truck drove into his car at 60 mph.

\----------------------

Liam was jolted from his nightmare, his heart speeding. He was still feeling the effects from last night's crystal meth experience. He looked at the clock, which read 1:30 AM. Today was his birthday. A year ago today, his brother- his only friend, had been killed in a motorway incident. Liam sighed. He remembered being called by the police. He remembered the box of things which had been salvaged from Noel's car. There wasn't much in the box. Just a few magazines, several pounds, and Liam's 'Let It Be' cassette tape. He kept it, but he locked it in a drawer. He didn't want to look at it. It had been in the car when his brother had died, and that was too much for him to handle. His heart was made of stone, but sometimes it cracked.


	7. Justine

"Jesus, Dame, it's fucking huge!" Justine exclaimed.

"Yeah, what did I tell you, love?" Damon smirked.

"Well," Justine paused, "Can you get it all in?" 

"'Course I fuckin' can, I'm Damon Fucking Albarn, just watch me," Damon said, taking a bite of the largest sandwich Justine had ever seen. His jaw practically unhinged, trying to get the biggest bite he could.

"You're fucking disgusting, that's what you are," Justine shook her head, laughing. They were sitting with their friends outside, eating their lunch. Damon and Justine sat in a circle with Donna, Alex, Graham, Bernard, Brett, and Jarvis. Everyone was having a great time, but Alex and Graham were acting weird. They were acting so secretive, sneaking looks at each other when they thought nobody was looking. Well, Justine was always looking. She was attentive of everything and everyone. Even that slow moving figure making its way across the grass. When she focused, she recognized who it was.

"Hey Damo," Justine poked Damon too hard, earning a laughably disgruntled glare from him, "Isn't that the bloke you brought to the party a few nights ago? What was his name? Linus? Lane? Parka guy!"

"Fuck!" Damon brought his eyebrows together, "Liam... I didn't even know he was a student here!"

"How d'you know he goes here?" Bernard wondered, eating a crisp.

"See the uniform, you pillock?" Damon scoffed, and got up. He put his beloved sandwich down, and started speed-walking towards Liam. Bitter curiosity overtook Justine, and she picked up Damon's sandwich, attempting to take a normal sized bite. This resulted in everything within the bread falling into her lap with a soft splat. Everyone in the circle was doubled over laughing, even Justine, despite the fact that she had a lapfull of tomatoes, lettuce, and mayo, and had ruined the sandwich Damon had been so excited for.

"Alright lads, from now on, Liam's gonna sit with-" Damon looked at Justine, who was still laughing to the point of tears with everyone else, "Hey Justine, what the fuck happened to my fucking sandwich?"   
His reaction made everyone laugh harder. Even Liam was having a laugh. Justine still had the bread in her hands.

"You want me to scoop it up and put it back together?" Justine giggled, wiping tears from her eyes. 

"No it's perfectly fucking fine," Damon sighed, "At least let me have the bloody bread then," He took the soggy bread, and started eating it, earning giggles all around. 

"I'm Liam," Liam sat down finally, "For those of you who don't know".

"I've heard about you," Graham said, speaking the first words Justine had heard from him all day, "Aren't you a drug dealer?"

"Are you daft?" Brett shoved him, "You can't ask someone that!"

"Brett, stop acting like a fucking cultured twat," Alex spoke before Graham could, "You're the same kind of idiot as the rest of us". Brett rolled his eyes.

"Where'd you hear that one?" Liam asked, "I heard you're a poofter, but I don't fucking judge".

"Jeez mate, I was just wondering," Graham was silent for a moment, "It's just something I've heard".  
Justine observed everyone in the now hostile circle. Damon was hopelessly trying to enjoy his sandwich, not paying much mind to the conversation. Graham looked like he wanted to disappear, and his face was all red. Alex was glaring at Liam, his blood obviously boiling. Brett looked annoyed at everyone, and Bernard was paying attention to his crisps. Donna was staring at Jarvis, and Jarvis was an interesting story. He looked nervous. He was sweating even though it wasn't too warm out today, and his eyes darted around, sometimes landing on Liam, sometimes landing on the ground. He looked guilty. Justine had never seen him so uptight before. He was usually cool and collected, but he looked like a complete wreck. 

"Jarv," Justine held concern in her voice, "Are you alright?"

"Oh yes, just fine, absolutely fine," Jarvis spoke swiftly and awkwardly, which wasn't at all his style, "Absolutely... just marvelous".  
Justine was suspicious. Jarvis hadn't been so tense until Liam had arrived. Had they even met before? She racked her brain until she remembered the night of the party. Liam had gone off with Jarvis to do drugs. The next time she saw him was when he had walked into the bedroom where she and Damon were. He had looked high. His pupils were like dinner plates, and he was shaking from head to toe. And the retching... it seemed like he'd retched for hours. It occurred to Justine that Liam had taken too much of whatever Jarvis gave him, and that's why he must've felt so guilty.

"God Justine, my fucking sandwich," Damon shook his head in disgust, "This is pitiful. How did this happen?"

"I just wanted a bite, love," Justine smiled, "You want the remains now?"

"I suppose," Damon sighed, reaching into Justine's lap to salvage what he could of his sandwich.

"Damon!" Squealed Justine, "That's a bit cheeky, innit?"

"It wasn't meant to be," Damon's voice held misery, "I don't think I can look at you the same way ever again, after what you've done to my poor food".

"Well that's encouraging," Justine cleaned off her trousers with a napkin, and turned to Donna, "We'd better go, love, we don't want to be late for French".  
Donna nodded solemnly. What the fuck was wrong with everyone? Just a moment ago, they'd all been having a great time, and now it was like a cloud had gathered over everyone. Everyone was so moody.   
Justine and Donna gathered their things and left the group. They silently walked through the bland halls of their school. Justine decided she needed to stop and have a talk with her best friend.

"What's the problem, Don?" Justine asked, "Something's wrong, I can see it in your eyes".

Donna took a deep breath, "Jarv looks upset, and I want to help him".  
Donna fancied Jarvis. She had for what seemed like forever. She was madly in love with him, and it was odd to Justine, because she was so independent usually. She was brave, and had been able to function completely on her own for years, and yet she felt so helpless around Jarvis.

"Well Donna," Justine thought, "Maybe you could try to talk to him about what happened with Liam. It is sort of his fault, but maybe try to help him cope so he doesn't make that mistake again".

"How do you know about what happened?" Questioned Donna.

"I put two and two together," Justine Explained, "I really am sorry, Donna. You want to do a stress-relieving shag?"

"No Justine," Donna rolled her eyes, "Not everything can be solved by shagging you. I'm not even gay. You're not even gay. Just no". Donna wandered away, leaving Justine behind. 

"Well bloody hell, she usually loves a good stress-relieving shag," Justine mumbled quietly to herself, before following Donna into the classroom.   
Justine wished she could help everyone. Nobody wanted to be helped, and that made it hard for her. Everyone was distant today. What the fuck was going on with Alex and Graham? She decided that after French class, she was going to confront Alex. She kept theorizing until the class was over.  
Justine made a beeline for the door, and then for Alex's locker as soon as French had ended. As he was opening it up, she ran and slammed it shut. 

"What the fuck, Justine?" Alex hissed.

"You're acting weird lately," Justine cleared her throat, "And so is Graham. What's up with you two?"

"Nothing," Alex answered quickly, avoiding eye contact with her, "Everything's fine".

"Everything's not fine," Justine shook her head, "I want you to tell me why you and Gra have been acting so introverted. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to".

Alex sighed, and ran his shaky hands through his hair, "A few things happened last night".

"Go on," Justine nodded.

"My... my dad came back," Stuttered Alex. Justine's jaw dropped. She knew all about how he'd disappeared to France one day after telling Alex how ungrateful he was. Justine stopped him for a moment, and hugged him. Alex didn't seem like he knew how to react to this, but after an awkward few seconds, he hugged her. 

"And," Alex continued, pulling away, "I don't quite know how to say this... but... see, Gra was over last night, and I uh... we shagged". This shocked Justine even more. Her eyes widened, and she wondered why the hell he had shagged Graham. 

"Alex!" Justine shrieked a bit too loudly, "You shagged-"

"Shhh!" Alex covered her mouth with his hand, "Shut up, Justine! You can't just yell that to everyone within a hundred mile radius".

"But," Justine lowered her voice, "Why did you shag him?"

"I fancy him a bit, I think," Alex looked around, perhaps to see if anyone was looking.

"Hold on," Justine rolled her eyes, "You didn't do this simply because you could, right?"

"Fucking hell, Jus, do you honestly have such a low opinion of me?" Alex raised his voice, clearly angry, "Honestly. You think all I care about is sex and alcohol? It's not like his head was any clearer. After all, he only did it 'cos he's in love with fucking Damon".  
Alex stormed off, leaving Justine with her thoughts. A few people were staring, but she didn't notice. Graham couldn't be in love with Damon. They were best friends. They knew everything about each other, and Damon would've known this. Of course, perhaps Graham didn't want him to know.  
Several hours later, Justine was laying on her bed with Damon. They were having a spliff and listening to The Clash. Damon had his arms around Justine, who was deep in thought. 

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Damon asked.

"I'm just thinking about how strange today felt," Answered Justine, "Nobody acted like themselves".

"Are you thinking about my sandwich?" Damon laughed.

"No, I'm not thinking about your fucking sandwich," Justine was annoyed, "Didn't it seem like Graham was acting strange?"

"He is strange," Damon handed her the spliff, "Liam is probably right. I bet the reason he can't find a bird is because he likes cock".

"What makes you think that?" Justine sat up.

"Ah come on, he's got 'twink' written all over his booftie arse," Damon laughed.

"Damon, don't say that," Justine reprimanded, "Maybe it was alright to make those jokes when we were all younger, but not anymore. We're all getting older and trying to figure out who we are. What if Gra really was gay? How do you think he'd feel?"

"Love, don't worry, he's not gay," Damon chuckled before adding, "That's like saying Alex is gay, and he's the straightest man in the world".

"So what if he was?" She shook her head, "Would that be a problem? Brett's gay, do you have a problem with him?"

"Yeah but Brett's a twat, he doesn't count," Damon paused, "You really think I'd hate my best friend if he was gay?"

"With the way you're speaking now?" Justine scoffed, "Yeah. I do think that".

Damon got to his feet, and grabbed his jacket, "Well if that's your opinion of me, then I'm fucking leaving".

"Damon, please," Justine stood.

"I don't need my own fucking girlfriend telling me I'm a gay basher," Damon threw on his coat, "Fuck off".  
As the door slammed behind him, Justine sat back down on her bed. For the first time in ages, she felt tears coming on. She felt like everyone hated her. She'd only been trying to help people all day, and this is how they'd treated her. Donna, Alex, and Damon had all stormed away from her. Loneliness enveloped her like dark clouds, but she realised she shouldn't feel too bad. Justine stood up and walked over to her record player, where The Clash's 'Combat Rock' was still playing. She turned the volume up to the highest setting, the sound of 'Atom Tan' filling her room, and she started dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope y'all didn't find this chapter too boring x


	8. Brett

Brett sat at his piano, banging out one of many beautiful songs he'd written. Nobody ever heard them. His parents were always out at their extravagant parties, probably drinking red wine and snorting cocaine. Sometimes he played the songs for Bernard, who told Brett that he should record them. He didn't want to. His songs were personal. They didn't concern anyone else, except maybe Bernard.  
Currently, he was completely alone, and it was almost midnight. He hated being alone. Silence was deafening, so when Brett was alone, he played piano until his fingers were numb, and still he kept playing. 

"Sounds lovely," Said a voice from behind.  
Brett turned around to find Bernard leaning against the wall next to the door. He wore a button down shirt, a denim jacket, dark jeans, and boots.

"Bloody hell," Sighed Brett, "How'd you get in here? The doors are locked".

"That's more than can be said about the windows," He smirked.

"At least you've let me know, so I can remember to lock them next time," Brett laughed, "What are you doing here? It's nearly midnight".

"I just thought I'd drop in," Bernard took out a pack of cigarettes, pulling out one for himself and one for Brett, "I know your parents are out of town, and I didn't want you to be lonely".

"I'm not lonely when I've got my piano," Said Brett, lighting his cigarette, and his friend's too.

"Well I'm bored," Bernard declared, "Let's go out. Perhaps we could go bother Damon. That's your favourite pastime, innit?"  
Brett thought for a second, taking a drag of his cigarette. He could just tell Bernard to fuck off so he could play piano in peace. But he looked absolutely lovely in that denim jacket, and he was a bit lonely. Brett nodded and stood, putting on his jacket. Bernard grinned and made his way to the door. The cold air hit them as soon as they stepped outside, and Brett suddenly felt energetic. He wanted to have fun.  
The pair made their way to Damon's house, stopping to pick up small rocks. When they arrived, they tossed the rocks at Damon's window. Damon showed up and opened the window, but Bernard must not have registered this, because he accidentally threw a pebble which hit Damon square in the face.

"What the fuck are you two bloody wankers doing?" Damon hissed, "I'm trying to get some fucking sleep!"

"Damon Albarn, going to sleep before 3:00 AM?" Bernard mocked, "Unheard of! We're coming upstairs, but not before stopping in your kitchen to pick up the strongest alcohol you've got!"

"Fuck off, you twats!" Damon raised his voice slightly, "I'm not in the mood!"

"Looks like someone didn't get their daily shag," Bernard said before walking to Damon's door, and getting down on his knees to pick the lock. He managed to unlock it quickly, so Brett and Bernard walked in. Brett wandered into Damon's parlor, gazing at the baby grand piano. He slowly moved toward it, outstretching his long fingers to touch the keys. He was familiar with this piano, as Damon's mother was his teacher. Not that he needed any more teaching, he was brilliant. He just liked having someone who played the same instrument as him to talk to about music with.   
He pulled out the piano bench and sat down. It was always too small for him. He was a great deal taller than Damon's mum, so his knees grazed the bottom of the piano. Brett played the song he had been playing when Bernard walked in. He could hear his friend rifling through the cabinets for something to drink, and he could hear Damon creeping down the stairs. He was jolted from his musical trance when someone smacked him on the back of the head. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Damon grumbled, "Don't you know we have neighbours?"

"You didn't have to smack me," Brett retorted.

"Yes I did," Damon paused, "It's my home, I'll smack whoever I please".

"Damon, I'd no idea your mum had scotch!" Bernard said, entering, "That's real badass!"

"Shut up you twit, we're not having that," Damon sighed, "Why can't you get out of my house?"

"We can," Bernard giggled, "But we won't".  
Damon looked like he didn't want to argue anymore, so he gestured to the stairs. They made their way to Damon's bedroom, Bernard directly behind him, cradling the large bottle of scotch. The three boys sat down on the floor and started passing it around.

"So what's your problem, Lamo Damo?" Wondered Bernard, "You're acting like a prick. I mean, you are a prick, but you're acting like more of a prick".

"I don't have to tell you tossers," Damon said, taking a large sip of scotch.

"Please?" Bernard begged, "We came for the drinks, but we're staying for the gossip".

"It's Justine," Damon sighed, "We got into a bit of an argument".

"About what?" Brett finally spoke.

"She accused me of being a homophobe," Damon's voice had various elements of disbelief in it, "Honestly. You're my friend, right Brett? See? I've got a gay friend, I'm not a homophobe!"

"Actually Dame, that doesn't mean anything," Brett said, "It only means you have a gay friend".

"But as long as I'm alright with you doing your thing, doesn't that mean I'm not homophobic?" Damon was stumbling over his words in a manner quite comical to Brett.

"If you feel like you have to prove you're not homophobic, it probably means you are," Brett smiled. He enjoyed making Damon question his morals.

"Maybe you're gay," Bernard's alcohol tainted voice spoke, "You're so obsessed with not being homophobic. Maybe it means you're gay".

"Don't fucking say that to me!" Damon yelled, "I'm not! Shut the bloody hell up!"  
Bernard was only giggling. Damon's face got red, and before anyone knew what was happening, he punched him directly in the nose. Bernard dropped the now empty bottle of scotch onto the carpet, and clutched his nose.

"Damon!" Bernard mumbled, "Why'd you do that?" Brett stood, and helped Bernard up.

"C'mon," Brett's voice was numb, and his mind was foggy, "Lets go, alright?"

"Maybe you should focus less on why you're a homophobe and more on why you're a bloody cunt!" Bernard said, as they left Damon behind. 

"I'll walk you home, alright?" Brett suggested, as they walked away from Damon's house.

"No, no, no!" Bernard quickly said, "My parents think I'm at your house!"

"Why'd you lie to them?" Brett wondered, "They're lovely people. They care about you more than anything. Why do you lie to them?"

"They can sod off," Defended Bernard, "They don't know anything about me".

"Your tough guy thing doesn't work around me," Brett sighed, "We've known each other for all our lives, you can't fool me. You'd better come over to my house".   
Bernard silently agreed. The pair walked in silence back to Brett's house. They shed their coats upon entry, and went into the kitchen. Brett opened to fridge and grabbed a bag of frozen peas, handing it to Bernard. He rested it on his nose. They both went to Brett's room, as they had ever since they were small children, and climbed into bed. 

"Hey Brett?" Said Bernard after a few minutes, the pressure of the frozen peas affecting his voice.

"Yeah?" Brett confirmed he had heard, and turned to look at his best friend.

"Thanks for letting me stay," Bernard thanked.

"Don't thank me. It's what you've been doing for the past sixteen years, innit?" Brett teased.

"You're right," Bernard paused for a moment, deep in thought, "Remember when we were little, and we used to kiss each other just because we could?"

"Of course I remember," Brett smiled, "But once I told you I was gay, you wouldn't step within several feet of me because you were afraid people would think you were gay too".

"Well, I was a bit of a dickhead," Laughed Bernard.

"You still are a bit of a dickhead," Brett punched him lightly on the arm.

"Brett," Bernard paused, evoking a nervous feeling in the pit of his friend's stomach, "What if we kissed again? Like we used to when we were younger".

"But why?" Brett furrowed his brow. He was always down for a snog, but he didn't understand the sudden inquiry. 

"I dunno," Bernard pursed his lips, "I suppose I'm just wondering what it's like to kiss another bloke".

"Maybe you can find some other token fag for your experiment," Brett scoffed and turned over. He was angry, offended even. He always knew there would be people who wanted to take advantage of him, but he never thought his best friend would be one of those people.

"Don't do that, love," Bernard said softly, sending shivers down his friend's spine, "I didn't mean it like that".

Brett turned to face him, "Get out of my bed. Get out of my room. Go home. Now".  
Bernard looked at his friend, his expression changing more quickly than the seasons. He looked hurt, and defeated. His eyes were glazed over, and it looked like he might start crying. Brett felt only slightly remorseful. He loved his best friend more than anyone, but if he was going to take advantage of him, he deserved no mercy.   
Bernard's hand, calloused from countless hours of playing guitar, gently reached forth and pushed a strand of hair from Brett's face. Before Brett could say anything, he slowly moved forward and pressed their lips together. The kiss was very much one-sided. Bernard pulled away, waiting for a response.

"Fuck off, Bernard," Brett spat.  
Bernard got up, and put his shoes on quickly, slamming the door behind him. Brett sat for a moment, before scrambling to the window. Looking down, he saw his best friend sitting on the curb, with tears streaming down his rosy cheeks. He ran his hands through his hair over and over, as if he hoped to find something hidden in the owl's nest it was. Brett sighed, and closed the curtains. He got back into bed, and clicked off the light, accidentally knocking the bag of frozen peas to the floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope you all like this chapter x


	9. Donna

Donna's alarm clock buzzed, though it was Saturday morning, and she had nothing to do. She swatted tiredly at it, missing several times. She thought about Justine, and how she regretted being such a bitch. She decided she was going to apologize today.   
Donna got up, putting a green tee shirt, blue jeans, and her sheepskin coat on. She trodded into the living room, stepping over the unconscious people who were strewn about the cold, hardwood floor. Some of them still had their sleeves rolled up, and one girl still had the needle in her arm. Donna sighed, and slowly approached her, careful not to wake her by pulling the needle out and setting it on the cluttered table.

"Donna," The voice behind her was weak, "Are you headed out?"

"Yes mum," Donna replied to the woman crumpled up on the old reclining chair, "I'm going over to Justine's".

"Don't forget about school," Her mother mumbled, half awake and half asleep, "Don't go out partying on a Thursday, now".

"It's Saturday, mum," Donna replied to her mum, who was now asleep. She sighed, and left finally.   
Donna strolled down the street, taking in the fresh, autumn air. She passed Sainsbury's and recognized the tall man who was exiting. 

"Jarvis!" She yelled, walking towards him. 

"Oh, hello Donna," Jarvis smiled at her. He wore black formal trousers, a tight fitting David Bowie tee shirt, and boots.

"How are you today?" Donna looked up, as he was a great deal taller than her.

"I'm alright I suppose," He paused, "I'm a bit spooked by that Liam bloke though".

"He probably doesn't even remember you," Donna reassured him, "He was so catastrophically fucked, I'm shocked he can still speak English".

"Thanks Donna," Jarvis smiled again, "Would you like to come over? I just bought hot chocolate".  
Donna's heart skipped a beat. She had never been to Jarvis' house. She barely even knew him. But she wasn't going to pass up this opportunity to be with him, so she nodded her head and followed the tall, slender boy to his house. It was in a more urban part of town. The houses were more spread out, and they all had yards. Jarvis' house was an old one, the paint on the outside chipping to nothingness. He unlocked the door and they stepped inside. Light fled in through every window, seemingly the only source of light. The decor reminded Donna of her own flat, except with more room and without all the living dead collecting dust in the parlor.

"Hello dear," Said a woman's voice. The pair turned around to find a pale, thin woman standing in the kitchen threshold. She looked gravely unwell, her thin grey hair tied up in the back, with a few strands escaping to touch a long nightgown which was draped over her shoulders.

"Hello mum," Jarvis bent down and kissed her on her cheek. It was hard for Donna to believe that this was his mum. She was far too short, and seemed old enough to be his grandmother.

"Who's this girl?" His mum asked, gesturing towards Donna with her bony, arthritis ailed fingers.

"This is Donna," Jarvis put his hand on Donna's shoulder, "She's a friend of mine".

"Well hello Donna," His mum introduced herself, "How do you know Jarvis?"

"We've known each other for a while now," Donna said after shaking hands with his mum, "I'm friends with Damon and Justine, and the like".

"Justine is such a lovely girl!" The woman smiled, "I've been telling Jarvis that she'd be perfect for him".

"I'm not interested in Justine, mum!" Jarvis blushed, "And she's with Damon anyway".

"Well Damon is a lovely lad, but you deserve her instead," His mum smiled.

"Ugh mum!" Jarvis turned to Donna, who was trying her best not to laugh at the situation, "Donna, let's go upstairs".  
He took her arm and pulled her up a wide staircase. The upstairs was exactly like the downstairs. It was very bright, and rustic. Jarvis' room was like that too, but it looked like someone actually lived in it. There were clothes in a pile on the floor, probably where a closet would be. There were also various pills on various surfaces, most of them sorted into labeled packages, but there were some loose ones about.

"Sorry about the mess," Jarvis said, moving things off his bed so they could sit, "Sit here, I'll go make the hot chocolate".

"Alright," Donna sat as Jarvis exited. She was nervous. She liked him a lot, and she was afraid of fucking up. She looked at the nightstand next to the bed and saw a few pills scattered about. She grabbed a familiar looking one, and observed it. It had a circular shape, and was white. she was sure she'd had something like it before, but she'd had so many pills that she couldn't differentiate them anymore. Without a second thought, Donna swallowed the pill dry and waited for it to take affect.  
Jarvis entered the room holding two cups of hot chocolate. He steadily handed one to Donna, and sat down beside her. She sipped her hot chocolate, and felt the warmth slither down her throat.

"I hope you don't mind Jarv," Donna quietly said, "But I took one of the pills on your nightstand".

"What?" Jarvis put down his cup quickly, "What was it? Do you know how strong these pills are? How many did you take?"

"Just one," Donna reassured. She already felt guilty. He was still a nervous wreck ever since the party, "It was a white circle".

Jarvis took a relieved sigh, and sat down, "The pill you took was paracetamol".

"Oh," Donna laughed nervously, "I feel like a fucking idiot now".  
She had a sick feeling in her stomach. She had been such an idiot. Of course she'd accidentally take paracetamol. It was just like her.

"Don't worry about it," Jarvis smiled, "I'm glad it was only paracetamol".

"I think I should go," Donna stood, stumbling dizzily towards the door. She didn't need pills to get high, she had anxiety.

"No, no don't," Jarvis touched her arm, "I'm sorry if I've made you feel stupid".

"I need to check up on my mum anyway," Donna said, as she exited his room. She swiftly ran down the stairs, out the door, and several feet away from his house before stopping dead in her tracks. Her stomach was in knots. The same warmth that had gone down her throat was now coming up. She bent over and allowed herself to throw up in the road.   
Donna composed herself, and started making her way back to her flat. She hoped her mum was still passed out. She didn't want to have to explain everything.   
When she arrived, the flat was quiet. The living dead were gone. The only person left was her mother, who was sitting on the couch. She was smoking a cigarette, and her head was resting in her hands.

"Mum?" Donna approached, noticing that her mum's eyes were red, as if she'd been crying.

"Sit down love," Her mother tapped the place on the couch next to her. Donna had a bad feeling about this. Her mother never called her 'love'. She sat down anyway.

"What's going on? Where is everyone?" Donna wondered.

"Everyone is the fuck out of here, that's where they are," She sighed, "We've got a week to get out of the flat".

"What?" Donna couldn't believe her mother's words, "Why? What the fuck have you done?"

"I forgot the rent," Donna's mum paused, "For the past four months".

"Mum..." Donna couldn't find the right words to express how she felt. Instead, she got up and walked to her bedroom.

"Donna please, you have to understand," Her mum said, her voice shaking.  
Donna understood all too well. She reached underneath her bed and pulled out her old suitcase. In a blind panic, she quickly packed all the clothes, shoes, and other things she could fit in the small case. 

"Where the hell are you going?" Donna's mum questioned.

"Somewhere else," Donna opened the front door, "Where people care about things other than skag".  
Donna's mother was speechless. She stood there frozen, as her daughter closed the door behind her and ventured off into the unknown. Donna had no clue where she was going, but she knew it would be better than living with an addict.


	10. Graham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been so long since i updated!!!!! and now i’m writing again!!!!! i hope you all like this and the next chapters!!!!!

"Alex".

"What?"

"Alex, put the spliff down, we have to talk".

"You're not my mum," Alex said, putting the spliff down anyway, on the ashtray next to Graham's bed.

"Exactly. That's why you're more likely to listen to me," Graham laughed, "I need to tell Damon about this".

"About what?" Alex wondered, running his fingers over Graham's bare shoulders.

"Don't act daft. I need to tell him about you and me. He's my best friend, and he deserves to know," Graham reached for his glasses, which had been thrown onto the floor next to the bed.

"Please Gra," Alex scoffed, "He'll only be a dick about it. You know him. He'll probably even be a dick if you think he won't. I didn't expect Justine to be such a bitch about it".

"You told Justine?" Graham sighed, "Fucking hell, Alex why didn't you ask me first?"

"She asked why we were acting so weird lately, and I told her," Alex replied, picking back up the spliff.

"Didn't I tell you to put it down for just a minute?" Graham felt like he shouldn't have to reprimand his own boyfriend, but here he was, "I don't care if he's a dick about it. He has to know. We're telling him today".

"Ugh. Fine," Groaned Alex.

"Get your clothes on," Graham said, standing and picking his shirt up off the floor.

"Do we have to go right now?" Alex asked, finally putting down the spliff.

"Yes Alex," Graham grabbed his hand and started pulling him out of bed, "Fuck's sake, why are you being such a twat today?"

Alex fell to the floor with a thud, staying there a moment to laugh, "I'm sorry love, I'll stop".

"You better," Graham smirked.  
The two got dressed and started walking over to Damon's house. Graham hoped he was home. There was always a possibility he was at Justine's house, though it was less possible now because it was so early in the morning. They finally got to Damon's door, and rang the bell. A few minutes passed before the door opened slightly, and a blue eye peeked out. The door opened all the way, and there stood a groggy Damon. He was in his bathrobe, his hair was fucked up, and a cigarette was placed between his lips.

"Oh. Hi Alex. Hi Gra," He took the cigarette out from his lips, "What are you two doing here?"

"We have to talk about something," Graham said. His heart was pounding. He hoped his best friend would understand.

"Sure, sure," Damon kept looking behind the two boys, and Graham noticed he had a bat in his hand, "Step right in".  
Graham and Alex exchanged a concerned glance. Damon seemed to be paranoid about something. He looked like he hadn't gotten sleep last night. They all went up to Damon's room, where he paced back and forth, his eyes never breaking away from the window. He held the bat so tightly, his knuckles were ghostly white. As soon as he'd smoked his cigarette slightly past the filter, he lit another one and continued whatever the hell he was doing.   
Nobody spoke for a few minutes. Graham didn't know exactly what was happening. Alex took his hand and squeezed it, to reassure him. 

Graham cleared his throat, "Damon..."

"Yeah?" Damon said, still looking out the window.

"Alex and I are together," Graham quickly spoke, his heart pulsing.

"Yeah, yeah," Damon replied, "That's great".

"I mean together..." Graham reiterated, "Like how you and Justine are together".

"Great," Damon put out his second cigarette, and lit a third.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Alex grabbed Damon by the shoulders and turned him around, "Graham and I are boyfriends. We're in a gay relationship, with lots of gay kissing and gay shagging".

"Shut up Alex," Graham nervously laughed.

"You what?" Damon's eyes were wide, "How the fuck?"

"It started at the party a few days ago," Stated Alex, "We just-"

"I want to talk to Graham alone," Damon interrupted.

"I think that's a bad idea," Alex replied, stepping between Damon and Graham.

"He's my best mate, I need to speak to him alone," Pleaded Damon.

"It's fine Alex," Graham smiled, "I trust him".  
Alex didn't say anything. After a moment, he nodded and kissed Graham before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

"I wanted to speak to you alone because Alex tends to speak for others sometimes," Damon said.

"I know," Graham felt the slightest smile play at his lips. Of course he loved Alex, but he still had an unspoken love for Damon.

"I didn't know you were gay," Damon started. Graham felt dizzy. He took a seat on the bed, and tried to breathe, but he only started crying. Damon sat next to him, and put his warm arm around him.

"Hey Gra, don't cry," Damon softly spoke, "It's alright. I just wish I had known, because I would've stopped making jokes about queers and trying to set you up with birds".

"I'm sorry Damon," Graham said, with his face in his hands, "I should've told you a long time ago".

"Don't worry about it," Damon smiled lovingly, "You're my best friend, and I won't let silly little things like this get between us. I love you, Gra".  
Graham silently wrapped his arms around Damon and hugged him tightly. He was so lucky to have a friend like him. Everyone always thought he was a stuck up arse hole, but Graham knew better. The moment lasted a few seconds before the doorbell rang. Graham felt his best friend turn stiff. It looked as if he had been stuffed by a taxidermist, and he was completely silent.

"Damon?" Graham questioned. He received no answer, "Hey Damon, what's wrong?" 

"Go look out the window please," Damon said in monotone.

Graham got up and moved to the window, looking down to see Bernard standing at the door with a full bottle of scotch, "It's just Bernard".

"Shit," Damon cursed under his breath, "Bloody fucking hell. Is he picking the lock? He can pick the lock. He's not doing it, is he? Graham? What the fuck is he doing?"

"Calm the fuck down, Damon," Graham snapped, "He's just standing there. Why are you so bloody paranoid?"

"Because I punched him in the face last night, and he could beat the shit out of me," the words quickly left Damon's mouth.

"Why did you punch him?" Graham's mind was enveloped in confusion.

"Please don't make me tell you," Damon pleaded.

"If I just told you that I've been shagging Alex, you can tell me why you punched fucking Bernard," Snapped Graham, "Alright?"

Damon sighed, "We were all drinking scotch and I suppose we had a bit too much. He said I was gay, and I lost it".  
Graham felt his heart sink. How could he expect his best friend to understand him if his fragile ego could barely handle being called gay? He lost all expression in his face, and moved towards the door. Damon snatched his hand.

"Gra please," Damon's voice shook, "I'm..."

"You're what?" Graham jerked his arm away, "You're a bloody twat".  
He opened the door, finding Alex standing there with his arms crossed. Graham pulled him by the shirt and kissed him furiously, making sure Damon was watching. 

"Let's go, love," Graham softly said, "Okay?"

"Hold on," Alex said, already being tugged down the stairs by his sleeve, "What did Damon say to you?"

"He told me that everything was fine," Graham paused, "But then Bernard rang the doorbell and he told me he'd punched him because he called him gay".

"Is that why Damon was being so bloody paranoid?" Alex sounded just as confused as Graham had sounded.

"Exactly," Graham opened up the door, "Hello Bernard. Damon is just upstairs".

"Oh, hey guys," Bernard raised his eyebrows upon seeing the two, "You two should stick around".

"We were just leaving actually," Alex smiled, "We're going to Graham's". 

"Oh, alright," Bernard smiled and walked to the stairs. Alex closed the door behind him and started walking until Graham sat down on the curb. Alex sat with him.

"I think you should go home tonight," Graham sounded defeated, "I need some time to be sad".

"I understand that Gra, and I want you to do whatever you need," Alex bit his lip, "But I can't bear to leave you alone like this, and I'm not sure I can go home yet".

"Ugh. Alright fine," Graham sighed, and got up to start walking, followed by Alex. 

"Jesus love," Alex reached into his pocket for a cigarette, "If you really don't want me over, I'll go home".  
They stopped for a moment while Alex lit his cigarette. Graham observed the way his hair was hanging over his face. It almost caught ablaze like the cigarette, but it always managed not to. When it was finally lit, he pocketed the lighter and ran his hand through his hair, sweeping the mop back, and exposing his features. They were contoured by the light of the setting sun, especially his jawline and cheekbones. Graham broke into a sweat. Maybe having Alex stay again wasn't too bad after all.

"Let's get home quickly," Graham took Alex's hand, "So we can get rid of these stuffy clothes".

"Oh so now you want me over?" Alex playfully smirked.

"Just for company," Graham pulled Alex along.

"It’s some company you keep, darling!” Alex said with sarcastic tone in his voice.

“It certainly is”.


End file.
